White Picket Fences
by dutchbuffy2305
Summary: Buffy is a prisoner in a superficially perfect world. But why is that mailman bothering her? COMPLETE!
1. Part One

**White picket fences, _by dutchbuffy2305_**

_Spoilers: up to LMPTM_

_Rating: R_

_Summary: Buffy Anne lives in the perfect world. Why would she let the mailman disturb her peace?_

_Feedback: Always!__ dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk_

_Website: ___

_Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine_

"Buffy Anne!"

The voice of the teacher cut through her daydreams, and Buffy looked up guiltily. Miss Bennett looked at her with smiling reproof, head tilted charmingly. 

"Not what we're used to from you, young lady!" she chided Buffy Anne gently.

"I'm sorry Miss Bennett!" Buffy Anne felt bad for letting her down. She knew the teacher counted on her, as Class President, to set a good example.

"That's alright, dear, everyone is allowed an off moment once a year."

The rest of the class tittered politely. Buffy Anne felt her cheeks flush nonetheless and made a face at her best friend Alder. Alder rolled her eyes and indicated her notepad to point out to Buffy Anne that she didn't have to worry about notes. Alder was the best. She was the smartest girl in English class; actually, in all classes they took together. Probably in all her own, more advanced classes as well. Buffy Anne was happy to have a friend like that.

When class was dismissed, Miss Bennett asked Buffy Anne to stay a moment. Again, she tendered heartfelt apologies.

"That's alright, Buffy Anne," Miss Bennett repeated. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to talk to you about graduation, about the valedictorian speech."

Buffy Anne gasped. "You can't mean – I know my grades are good, but Alder's are way better! And I'm not even a senior!"

"Of course. But there is room for more than one Valedictorian speaker, and the principal and I decided to make room for Extraordinary Students in other ways."

For a moment, Buffy Anne felt dizzy. At the mention of the word principal, several faces flashed before her mind's eye, each with its own emotion attached to it, and for a moment, she couldn't decide which face belonged to her own principal.

Afterwards, she walked out of the class with a spring in her step. Not that she was unused to success and popularity, but Valedictorian as well…Wow. Alder and Alex were waiting for her.

"Was she mad? I'm sorry, I'm a bad bad friend, I should have seen that you were drifting off and warned you, I'm really sorry..." Alder babbled. 

Buffy Anne felt her heart twang gently in something alike to regret. Babbling Alder was so cute. She'd missed that. She halted in mid-thought and reeled herself in sharply. Buffy Anne! She said sternly to herself. You haven't gotten to be where you are with slacking off and daydreaming. 

She told her dearest friends about the honor the school was about to bestow upon her and Alder almost danced in her excitement. 

"That is so cool! Buffy Anne, you are the best speaker I know! I still reread your acceptance speech when you became Class president, that was the most touching and yet rousing speech I ever heard. "

"Thank you," Buffy Anne said modestly. It was true, if she said so herself, she did know how to touch the right chords. She had to, of course, as head cheerleader you had to whip up the girls into a good cheerleading frenzy at times.

She said goodbye to her friends at the school entrance and started walking home. The sun shone brilliantly in the cloudless blue sky, and Buffy Anne took deep breaths of the clean, fresh California air. She must be the luckiest girl alive. She couldn't wait to tell her mother about the teacher's request.

On her way home, her eyes rested happily on the brilliant green grass and the red and yellow tulips that were planted in the front yard of every pretty home she passed. The newly painted white picket fences set off the colors of the flowers and the grass. Mrs. Jenkins was picking up litter with her special litter-stick, and nodded at her in a friendly manner. Buffy Anne nodded back perkily and chatted with her for a moment. It was good practice for when she would be Mayor of Sunnydale, later. For now, she was just glad to live in such a peaceful, pretty town.

Her mother was already waiting for her, standing on the front porch in her red-and white checked apron, the sun making her golden-brown curls gleam. 

"Hi Buffy!" She waved energetically. "Did you have a nice day at school, honey?"

"Hi mom!" She loved her mother, and she was really proud of her, too. She looked so slim and pretty for her age, it was a little miracle.

After she had done her homework for the day, and her dad had come home, they sat down at the dinner table and had a great meal, as usual. Her mother was the best cook, and her dad always had a funny story to tell. Dinner was her favorite moment of the day – although she did think that on other moments, too, actually. She helped her mother do the dishes. 

"Buffy Anne Honey?" her father called out. "Where did you put the mail?"

"Oops!" Buffy Anne said, and covered her mouth in embarrassment. "I'm so forgetting girl today!'

"I'll go get it, Daddy!" she called out and ran lightly down outside to the mailbox. Getting the mail for her daddy had been her own special task since she was four, and she'd make up to him for the forgetting with her extra special smile.

Right at that moment, the mailman rode up and deposited mail in their box. Buffy Anne greeted him, friendly, but with her low wattage smile, reserved for men she didn't know and should not encourage.

"Hello, Buffy," the mailman said.

She was a little annoyed that he knew her name, and besides, nobody called her that, but she didn't let it show on her face. Buffy Anne, her mother would say, a lady is unfailingly polite, especially to people we don't know socially.

After dinner, she was allowed to walk over to Alder's to watch TV together. She was walking past the Park she wasn't supposed to use as a shortcut, when she noticed a bicycle coming up to her and slowing down to match her jaunty stride. Buffy Anne stared straight ahead. She knew just how to deal with boys like that.

"Hello again, Buffy," a voice said.

Buffy Anne was shocked out of her complacence. "My name is Buffy Anne!" she snapped.

The mailman? He was no boy. She knew how to fob off a boy making a nuisance of himself in ten seconds flat, but men were another matter altogether. To men, a girl was polite but distant. She sneaked a peek. He was staring at her in an annoyingly direct manner, as if he knew her innermost secrets. The urge to smack him soundly was overwhelming. She knew better than that, though. She'd tell her father, and he'd speak to the Mayor, or the Commissioner or someone like that. She didn't think mailmen were supposed to accost girls like her.

A ways off yet, she saw the gate to the Park approaching. A naughty plan sprang up in her mind. She would use the entrance to escape into the Park, where he couldn't follow on his bike. 

Secure in her plan, she turned, still walking on rapidly, and looked at him fully. "Why are you talking to me?" she taunted. "I'm a high school girl. Aren't I a little young for you?"

His eyebrows rose. He pushed out his lips and smirked at her. "You sure? Thought you liked older men?"

If he meant that she was dating a guy who was in college, well, duh. That was not the same as talking to a real grownup. Someone who hadn't even gone to college, like she would. She stuck her nose high in the air and refused to look at him again. When the gates opened up on her right side, she snuck in quickly and ran over the grass to the other side of the park. Except – what were all these weird stone ornaments doing on the grass? She slowed down, curiosity getting the better of her. One stone in particular drew her, and she knelt down and rubbed off the slight coating of dust.

"Joyce Summers," it read, "Beloved mother of Buffy and Dawn, August 20 1955 – February 27 2001."

Buffy Anne felt dizzy again, for the third time that day. Her mom wasn't dead. And who was Dawn? And anyway, it should read beloved wife of Hank, too, if she ever died. She stood up, and swayed for a moment as blood rushed from her head. Wow. She was really having a weird day. She turned back to look at the rectangle of stone again, but it had gone. Had it even really been there?

She told Alder about the strange things happening to her, well, not about the mailman, because she felt kind of icky and a little guilty about attracting the attention of a man like that. Like it wouldn't have happened if she was a really good girl or something. Like she'd encouraged him.

Alder got really mad. "You know it's important to stick to routine, Buffy Anne!" she shouted. "You know the world is going down the drain if we don't stick to the right way of doing things! Cut across the Park? How on earth could you even think of doing that? You've known your whole life that using the Park was wrong! You know what? I'm going to call your Mom and ask her to have your Dad pick you up. I don't think can be in the same room with you. You, of all people, should know how to stick to routine!"

"Please, Alder," Buffy Anne begged, tears in her eyes. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to get away from the scary man!"

Alder stopped being angry right away. "Scary man? What do you mean? Who was he? What did he look like?"

Buffy Anne stammered, "I don't know, Alder! I'd never seem him before. He looked just ordinary!" For some reason his very ordinary face swam up in her memory, sharper than she thought it ought to be. Blue eyes. She pushed the dangerous thoughts away, not sure why she was lying to her best friend, but very sure she had to.

Alder crossed her arms and regarded her steadily. "Well. You're right, we shouldn't tell your parents, they would so wig." She leaned forward confidentially. "You should tell your boyfriend when he gets home from college. He'll know a way to beat him up good!"

Buffy Anne nodded earnestly. "Brilliant idea, Al!" she said. "Arch will know what to do."

They settled back in their routine pastime of watching TV and eating candy, uneasily at first, but it wasn't so hard to get back into the familiar gossiping and giggling again. Just like every other night.

*****

The next day promised to be as unsettling as the last one. First thing in the morning, after a hearty breakfast of waffles and syrup – a good breakfast is the most important meal in the day – she'd been walking to school, ponytail bouncing, petticoats swaying, when that mailman stepped across her path.

"Go away!" she hissed. "Don't let people see you! They'll send the police after you if you keep this up!"

"Buffy?"  His face lit up in a wonderful smile, which tugged at her heart in peculiar contradictory ways. "You're back? D'you remember?"

She halted, confused. "No. Should I? I'm just giving you fair warning, because you haven't done anything really bad yet. But I know other people won't think that. You'd better go away quickly."

"No way, Buffy. I'll always be here for you. We'll get you out. Giles is working on it."

He clasped her hands briefly and ran off. His hands had been warm. She felt the sunshine on her face. Something was wrong about this, but she just didn't know what yet. 

The rest of the day she anxiously kept to her most normal routines and ways of doing things. Nothing should be different or noticeable about her today. She felt watched. But who would be watching her? These people were her friends and teachers, familiar since forever. She'd known them since first grade, practically. They couldn't possibly mean her harm. Get you out, the mailman had said. Out of what?

She flirted with the jocks in her practiced, friendly manner, keeping them interested but not giving any of them a promise of more. She chatted to her little group of followers, Goneril, Rhapsody and the rest of the sheep pack. Daniel and Alex were a relief to sit with at lunch. At least they didn't try to chat her up all the time. They knew she was Arch's. The fuzziness hit her unexpectedly. She'd felt so secure in thinking of Arch, away at college over in….LA? Sure, UCLA, that was it. There couldn't be anything off about Arch, too? He was the one constant factor in her life. She almost snarled at her traitorous thoughts, and the others looked at her a little curiously. 

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Thinking of Arch."

They accepted her explanation good-naturedly and talked on. Dear Alex. He never bugged her about stuff, was never judgmental. He'd back her up no matter what, and was just there for her, even if he wasn't smart. Her thought returned to Arch, like picking at a scab. Why couldn't she picture him as vividly as, say, that mail carrier? A guy she'd never seen before in her life? How weird was that? Mucho weird. When Alder came over to sit next to Daniel the indefinable sense of wrong deepened. She wanted to jump up and run out of the cafeteria, out of the stifling atmosphere of many eyes watching avidly. Some cautious and crafty instinct she did not know she possessed made her keep still. A low profile was of the utmost importance now. She glanced at Alder, and caught her staring oddly. Buffy Anne threw her a wink and started to rise. 

"Time to get back to class, guys, we don't wanna be late."

"No, we sure don't," they chorused. Danger averted.

******

That evening after dinner was her night for cross-stitch and TV with Mom. It had never been so hard to concentrate on the work before. At last she hit a long stretch of similar border work and could go on automatic pilot. She picked and picked at the scab in her thoughts but could not find a beginning. Why was this happening to her? She'd always been a good girl, but something inside her leaped at the chance to be bad. Tomorrow she'd walk casually by the Park again, or linger a few minutes when picking up the mail. She didn't know what to make of the mailman, but he was definitely the most interesting thing that had happened in Sunnyvale since…her mind drew a blank. She knew she had lived here her whole life, but could she actually remember doing that? Being younger? Or in kindergarten? The mind pictures were really fuzzy and unclear. If only she could ask someone if their memories were as vague.

After she could finally escape to her room, she desultorily gave her hair its hundred strokes, brushed her teeth, chose one of a dozen pretty flowered nightgowns. She was just about to close her window when she smelled the most peculiar acrid burning smell. She was about to call her mother to check for fire somewhere, when she recognized the silhouette standing under the big sycamore. The mailman. He was making a little red light wink on and off with his mouth. With an agility that was not at all unusual for a champion cheerleader she climbed silently out of her window and padded over to the tree on her bare feet.

"Hi!" she said. "What are you doing?"

The mailman took the white tube out of his mouth and ground it out with his foot.

"Watching you," he drawled. 

"Really? Why ever would you watch me?" Buffy Anne asked, twirling a lock of her long hair. She crossed her right leg before the other, and rocked a little on her heels. She thrust out her braless breasts and threw the mailman a look from under her lashes. Too bad she'd already taken off her mascara. Would he react just like a boy would? 

His reaction was more than she could have imagined. He took a step back from her at first, and when she smiled at him encouragingly, stood staring at her with his mouth open.

"Buffy, what the hell are you…."

Swearing! She had just known grown men were more interesting. She closed the distance between them, excited by the effect she was having on him. She extended a finger and ran it lightly over his uniform blouse.

"Tell me," she murmured, "What's a man like you doing in a town like this?"

He burst out laughing. She stared at him, deeply wounded. A boy would have been drooling by now.

"Buffy, Christ, why are you playing at being a teenage version of Jean Harlow?"

"I was thinking more Breathless," she answered sullenly.

"You really don't remember a thing, do you, love?" He glanced up at the house and drew her behind the tree. This was actually scary. What would he do to her when nobody was looking? She felt her heart thump in her throat and wished she hadn't been so foolish. The look in his eyes was so hungry…She could still reel him in, she just knew it, she just had to play it differently. And make sure she was never in any real danger.

"Buffy, you're a prisoner. This world isn't real."

How lame was that? She said scornfully, "Yeah, right. Is that the only story you could think of?"

He tried to grab her hand, but she would have none of it. She shook her arm loose and backed off. "Not the way to get a girl to be nice to you, buster! Goodnight!"

She heard his exasperated whisper after her: "Buffy…"

******

As Buffy Anne always did at exactly the same time every morning, she walked to school, petticoats dancing, pretty pink heels click-clacking on the pavement. Today was different, though. There was danger in the air, a breach of routine, and her whole body felt extra perky and bouncy in anticipation. There was a pleasant feeling of scaredness in the pit of her belly, and the bright colors of the grass and the flowers and the sky vibrated with the extra zing.

She just knew the exact moment the mail carrier's bicycle turned on Main and started to overtake her. It was a tingling, knowing sensation in the back of her neck. He slowed the bike when he was a couple of feet behind her. She smiled, even if he couldn't see it.

"I do know you're there!" she said, swinging her little beaded pink purse.

"You always do, pet," he said and drew level with her. Buffy Anne sneaked a peek at him from under her lashes. To see the middle-aged ordinariness of his face again shocked her a little. In her dreams, he wore another face, one she couldn't remember, except for intense blue eyes. Were these eyes even blue? She scrutinized him thoroughly.

"What's to see, love?" he asked, eyebrows raised. Brown eyes, two unremarkable eyebrows.

"Just checking if your eyes are blue," she blurted out. Oops. You should never ever tell a guy you were thinking about him.

He tilted his head and smiled at her. He acted like he was some sort of hot football jock in stead of a paunchy mailman. That was against all laws of attraction, which dictated jock should seek cheerleader, senior guy could go for junior girl, but not vice versa, the nerd would seek, well, she didn't actually know a rule for that. The nerd should pine after the cheerleader without bothering her with it, she decided.

It wasn't that she found her pursuer attractive or anything, because he was way too old and pudgy for that. He was just a diversion. A little secret, all to herself, to help her get through the day, to help combat the boredom. Hastily she suppressed that thought. Of course she wasn't bored! She was lucky to be herself, popular and successful, a normal girl.

"You been thinking about what I said yesterday?" the mailman asked.

"Um, no?" she replied archly. Would he please start flirting already? Did a girl have to do everything herself?

She threw him a smoldering look and flipped her hair. The handle bars wobbled perceptibly. Buffy Anne was glad to see she still had it.

"You flirting with me, Buffy?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Duh. Do I have to spell it out for you? What else?"

There was silence. Buffy Anne stared straight ahead. Really.

"I was hoping that you'd taken what I told you yesterday seriously. And that you'd maybe remembered a little. Like, how would you know my real eyes are blue?"

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish's. "You mean, when I dreamed that your eyes were blue it was really true? Cool! And your face is different, too, huh?"

She'd made him very happy. He glowed at her for a moment and ran his hand through his hair. "You remember my face?"

She was actually sorry to disappoint him. "Not really. I just have this vague memory that it's different, is all" She tried to cast he mind back to what he'd been saying last night. "So – there is another world, where I really belong, and someone is keeping me prisoner in this world? And you are from the other world and you know me there?"

He nodded.

"Are you – a friend of mine?"

It looked like a really difficult question. After a long pause, he said, "In a sense, yeah. We're sort of work buddies."

There had to be more, Buffy Anne could tell. She trusted her instinct and went in for the kill. "We dated, huh?"

"I' m impressed," he said. "How did you know?"

"I just know things," Buffy Anne shrugged. "So, are you, like, my age, or in college?"

"We, um, we met at work," he nodded. Evasively, Buffy Anne thought.

"Does my mom like you?" Bull's eye again! A wobble in the handle bars.

A memory from yesterday's foray into the Park surfaced. Buffy Anne nearly dropped her purse as she lifted her hands to her mouth." Oh, no! It's really true, isn't it? My mom is really dead, huh?"

She didn't need his affirmative nod. She waited for the grief and the tears to overwhelm her, but nothing happened. "I can't even be sad about it. Why?"

"I don't know. This whole world is artificial. Everybody smiles all day long, never veering away from their routines for a moment. Took us a long time to get someone in who had a bit of freedom."

They were nearing Roosevelt, where her school was. Buffy Anne was really getting curious, although she didn't exactly believe him. They both stopped, and the mailman said, "I'm going to turn off here, I'd better not be seen with you. Meet you tonight when you get back?"

"Okay." When he was almost out of earshot she yelled, "Your name!"

"Spike!" He called back and cycled off.

Buffy Anne tested the name on her tongue. Spike. Not a very romantic name. More like a nickname. She could live with a nickname.

*****

It had been so hard, so unnatural somehow not to confide all this thrilling adventure stuff to Alder. But thanks to another exciting occurrence at lunch that day, Buffy Anne had managed to keep her mouth shut. Something had happened to the sky all of a sudden. It turned grey, and water came out of it, like from a shower. The people lunching outside actually got a little wet. Then the grey drifted off, and everything turned to normal again, except for everybody talking about it of course, until the principal and put a stop to it. 

Buffy sat waiting impatiently on the window sill of her room. When she saw the telltale little red dot come nearer slowly, her heart started to race. It was almost like falling in love, only not. Because no way was she ever going to go for a pudgy mailman, ever. Although if his tale were true he might be better looking in that other world. She wasn't sure if she really believed it, but hey, it beat going to bed early.

"Come on up," she whispered to the shadowy form on the lawn.

The man made a half-hearted attempt to climb the trellis. "I don't think I can," he whispered back. "This body isn't exactly athletic or lightweight."

Strange way of putting it, she thought. Well, she didn't mind climbing down again. She like the feeling of strength and agility physical exercise gave her. She jumped lightly into Spike's waiting arms. He stumbled a little under her weight and for a tantalizing moment, she was in his embrace. The warmth and bulkiness of his body overwhelmed her senses and she pressed against his chest in an impulsive hug. He returned the pressure for the smallest of instants and then stepped out of her arms.

She pouted. "You're not being fun!"

"This is serious, pet. We're not playing, here." He sounded like her dad. Big turn-on. Not.

"We dated, we can hug, no big deal, right?"

"It's still a big deal to me, Buffy. No hugging. Let's talk."

Buffy Anne saved this topic for later. She must have broken it of, she guessed, and he was still pining for her. She kind of liked that. They sat down on the dry grass on the other side of the big tree. Invisible from inside, completely exposed to the street side. Not that there was any traffic, ever.

"I think I figured it out, Spike," Buffy Anne said excitedly. "It's the teachers, right? They're evil, they're like criminals or creatures from outer space and they are controlling me and my friends."

"Uh-huh," Spike shook his head." Not the teachers."

"The parents?" Buffy Anne whispered, with a look in the direction of the house. "I could believe it of Mrs. Rosenberg, she's so…"

"No. There's nobody here. This demon trapped you inside this spelled world, where there are only puppets performing tasks by rote. You're the only real person here."

Buffy Anne needed a few moments to absorb this. "But – my friends! Alder! She's my best friend, how could she be a puppet! All that we've gone through together!"

Spike looked at her skeptically. "Like what?"

"Like when we were in first grade, we…" her mind drew a frightening blank. Could it really be true, what he was saying? Could everything she loved be false? Her eyes filled with tears. Spike wiped one off with a finger. The love and concern she saw in his eyes scared her and she looked away.

"Do I have friends in that other world?"

Spike encircled her shoulder with his arm and patted her comfortingly. "Sure you do, pet. Lots and lots of them, people who've been with you for years. They're actually a bit like the friends you've got here. Alder is modeled on your real friend Willow. Only you didn't go to first grade together, because you only moved here seven years ago. To Sunnydale, I mean."

"Sunnydale, Sunnyvale. Willow, Alder," Buffy Anne mused. "And is it like, Alex is Caesar?"

Spike looked at her oddly for a moment. "You seem a bit more…well-read than your counterpart. How could that be?"

"It's like, you have to hide it if you're smart, you know. If you want to be popular."

"Is that what you want?"

Buffy Anne was surprised. Of course it was. "Duh! Who wouldn't want to be popular and normal, and…"

"Are you afraid you aren't, then?"

What a question. "What do you mean by that?" She twisted away from him a little. She didn't like his line of reasoning. The earth started quickly to feel cool under her scantily clad hips and she moved closer to his warm bulk again. "You're nice and warm. A girl could get to like that."

Spike was very silent. She reached up and patted his rough moist cheek. "Hey, that was a compliment."

"I got that."

"You just got really manly and silent and hurt. Why?"

He sighed, "You'll remember all that when you get back, innit? I don't feel like talking about it. Let's try to figure out a way to get your memory back. The longer you and me stay here, the more chance there is to be discovered."

Buffy Anne was suddenly very bored with all the getting back talk. She felt sure there was something not at all fun about getting back. The feeling was very strong. She moved to sit within his legs.

"Buffy, please…"

"I'm cold, okay? Next time bring a ladder so I can stay in bed."

The mention of bed caused a sharp reaction in the body behind her back. Spike shifted uncomfortably. Buffy Anne smiled. Oh yeah. Fun and games.

She took his warm, large hands and placed them on her belly. "Warm me up," she commanded.

"Why don't I just give you my jacket?" Spike said with an exasperated edge in his voice and tried to set her from his lap forcibly. To her surprise, she was far stronger than he was and ended up straddling him, easily holding his arms in a tight grip, and forcing the hands against her body.

"I'll play along with the adventure idea, you play along with me," she said teasingly.

Spike was rigid with anger, but since she was so much stronger, he couldn't do much. Realizing her strength had dispelled the last of her fears. This mouse was hers to play with as long as she liked!

"Buffy, don't you realize that being this strong isn't normal for a girl? This means my story is true. You are the chosen warrior, unique among all girls, and you need to get back to your own world to combat evil."

"Read a lot of comics, huh?"

She ground her hips on his, and it was really nice. Her body tingled all over. She couldn't remember feelings like this at all, and there was no way she was going to give this up yet.

"Buffy, our relationship ended badly. I really don't feel like rehashing it while you don't have your memories."

"Did we have make out?"

"Yes, Buffy, we made out. We are both adults in the other world."

"Wow. That is so cool! None of the other girls has been making out yet!"

"It's not about that! It's about getting you out of here," he retorted, irritated. 

He didn't get it. "It's about power, and right now I have it, and you don't."

"And you're gonna do what with that power? Play naughty girl, who does the dirty with a guy her friends can't know about? Now why does that sound familiar?"

"I'm sure you're trying to be sarcastic and meaningful, but since I don't have these memories, I really don't get it!" Buffy Anne snapped back at him.

Something about his anger and helplessness made this even more fun for her. So what did that say about her? She must be kind of bad, she supposed, but she just didn't give a darn. She pinched him through his shirt, and he bucked and growled at her. 

The growling sparked off a deep, visceral, tactile memory. There were no visuals, and she found herself gripping his upper arms hard and kissing him desperately, French kissing no less, she'd never imagined this kind of wild bruising grapple of lips and tongue and teeth. And yet it was definitely a memory. Without thinking, she ground her breasts against his body, eager for contact. The kissing went on and on, and she heard them both gasping for breath. His sweat was slick against her skin, and it was all so hot she thought she was going to combust. Finally, she couldn't stand the heat any longer and wrenched herself loose. The heat was wrong, and it was all a little too far beyond her prom night imaginings.

She looked at the man, lying propped upon his elbows, his breath labored, chest heaving. 

"You okay?"

"Will be. A little trouble with breath management," he gasped. "Not used to it."

Whatever.

"I had a memory," she told him. "I could feel it, but not see it. Something was different. The heat was wrong."

Spike wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "Not surprising. I don't have body heat in the real world."

Another one of these remarks she was gonna have to let slide. All these little dribbles of information on the so-called real world annoyed her.

"Okay," Buffy Anne said, and settled herself against his (too warm) body again. "This kinda scared me, and convinced me. There is some kind of connection between us, and lots of scary memories, and I'm ready to know more. Tell me about us. And about me."

Spike lay down and folded his arms behind his head. She could feel his heart still hammering away.

"We've know each other for years, work-related, didn't really get on. Then we had a brief, unharmonious relationship, and you ended it. With good reason. A year after that, we're working together again. We trust each other."

"Thank you for the Reader's Digest, but I was kinda hoping for the Harlequin version?"

He just looked back at her, not going to be budged, she could tell.

"That can't be all," she said with conviction. "I jus know there is still something there, I feel it. You still love me, don't you?"

He exhaled loudly. "Yes."

"Well, if I have a memory of kissing like that, there's gotta be a spark left, huh?"

He looked away. "Could be a bad memory, you know. Please just leave it?"

"Uh-huh," she shook her head. "This is my condition for going along with the whole cloak and dagger stuff. You answer my questions, you help me practice."

"Practice what?" he said, but she could tell he already knew.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Buffy, you are going to make me pay for this when we get back. Have you no mercy?"

"Sorry, that just doesn't ring true, Mr. Mailman. You're no poor something, you can't make me believe that. There's power here, I can feel it." She thumped his chest.

They fell silent. Even though she was getting cold again, it was weirdly comfortable, exactly as if they had known each other for years, instead of a day. She was definitely getting more and more convinced. Without a word, Spike took of his blue US Mail jacket and wrapped it around her. Buffy 

Anne closed her eyes. If she didn't look at his face, and ignored the warmth and the hairiness, she could imagine he was her beautiful dream lover, and that they were having a romantic evening out together. The moon silvered his hair as they walked hand in hand among the tombstones. A tall figure rose from behind a tomb, wielding a huge pointy stick directed at her lover. 

"Spike!" she screamed and woke up with her heart pattering wildly in her chest.

"Buffy? What? Did you dream?" Spike's voice sounded fuzzy with sleep.

"It was creepy! I dreamed we were walking in a graveyard, don't ask me why, and you're hair was platinum, and a tall figure threatened you with a pointy stick. It sounds silly, but it seemed very threatening. I…" She frowned. "It's gone now. I still remember the dream, but the rest just slithered away." She turned to him with a smile on her face and smoothed his hair from his face. "We were walking hand in hand in a graveyard, Spike. Now why would we do that? In the dream I didn't think it was weird at all."

He smiled back at her and her heart lurched. How could he think it was over? They must be in love, she was so sure of it. He cocked his head to look at the sky and rose to his feet, groaning as he did so.

"Almost dawn, Buffy. I'd better go. See you tonight? Ow. Really ow." He face scrunched up in pain as he stretched his back. "Oh God, I'm agony here. My back is killing me. Humans are so bloody pathetic. Ow."

Buffy Anne felt a strange lack of sympathy. "You should have thought of that before you started sleeping on the bare ground at your age. I suppose you're younger in the real world?"

He looked at her evilly as he tried to work a crick out of his neck. "Hah bloody hah."

She ruffled his hair and they smiled at each other for a moment, making Buffy Anne dizzy and breathless. Whoa. This love stuff was way better than cheerleading and class presidenting. She tried to imagine Alder and Daniel acting this gooey, but she couldn't get her mind around it. Her memory about weekends with Arch were equally fuzzy. Dancing at the Chrome, a movie, eating popcorn? That was all there was to it. She sneaked back upstairs and stuffed the damp and grass-stained nightie in the back of her closet. Mom would never notice.


	2. Part Two

**White Picket Fences part two (all the usual stuff in part one)**

In theory, history class offered excellent opportunities to observe your friends, to see if they really were mindless puppets. Buffy Anne actually couldn't see anything weird about Alder, though, or about anyone. Really, the only one who was totally weird was obviously Mr. US Mail, and Buffy Anne herself, for believing all that stuff. At least that's what she tried to tell herself all day, trying for maximum normality and observance of routine. 

How was she gonna tell if everyone was an evil puppet or not? Seriously, in the harsh light of day it all seemed pretty unlikely. If only she could forget the scary images in her dreams last night, from the dozens of dreams she seemed to have had in the two hours or so she'd slept in her own bed after dawn. Fighting, always fighting, the most incredibly ugly and scary creatures, blood, gore, magic, death, going on and on. If that was her world, she might not try too hard to get back to it. Here everything was safe and ordinary, people were honest and kind and the colors were all bright.

She joined her friends on a bench outside and tried to look at them from an outside viewpoint. She couldn't do it. They were her friends, and she loved them, and they had fun together. The wit flew back and forth automatically, she didn't have to concentrate on the banter, and meanwhile she tried to remember what they'd talked about the day before, and was a little disturbed to notice that she couldn't.

Her attention wandered off and her eyes idly took in her surroundings, enjoying the bright pretty colors of the students' clothes against the even green of the grass. She looked a little sharper. The grass wasn't so even anymore. Some stalks were longer than others, and there were things standing in it, like flowers, only smaller and not with nice bright colors. She had no idea what had invaded the grass, but it looked sick. She felt a little icky sitting on it and moved to a bench. 

That night, when she left her bedroom by the window, she was better prepared. She was wearing an old skirt and a sweater and carried a fleece blanket. The round-shouldered pudgy figure of Spike beside the tree stood staring in the other direction. Buffy Anne felt a pang of dread. There must be something seriously wrong with her if she was really planning to talk to this guy in his polyester two-piece all night. Sheesh. Then he turned and smiled at her, his eyes almost disappearing inside crow's feet, and all her resistance melted and fell with a thunk in her belly. There it transformed into butterflies and made her skip the last few yards over to him and fling herself in to his arms.

"Spike!"

He returned her hug briefly and then detached himself. Buffy Anne felt disappointed and pouted at him. She remembered she was stronger than he and started a more forceful approach. 

"Hey," he said gently. "Not the strong-arm tactics again, pet. We owe each other more respect than that."

That was all very grown-up and restrained. Buffy Anne complied, thinking that she'd get round his scruples some way. She knew what she knew, she had no doubts at all she felt something for this unlikely guy, and how could her real world counterpart feel otherwise?

"So," she said, standing close, "What's the plan for tonight?"

"Um, if you don't have one, I thought I'd show you what people are doing in their homes at night, when you don't see them."

She made a face. "Do I need to know?

"Yeah, you do."

Buffy Anne got on the back of the bicycle and they slowly made their way over to Alder's, circling around the Park. She was sitting on the flimsy carrier on the back of the bicycle, arms tightly clasped around his ample middle. 

She giggled out loud. "Are you my knight in shining armor? Are you finally gonna rescue me now? What have you been waiting for anyway?'

The bicycle wobbled. "Usually, you do the rescuing, Buffy. You are the hero. I'm just a sidekick."

She felt stumped. "I'm the hero? I'm a girl!"

He shrugged, and almost wrecked the bike by careening into the sidewalk. "So?"

At Alder's house, Spike parked the bike against a tree and they crept over to the dark house. The porch creaked a little. Buffy Anne felt a thrill of pleasure coursing through her. She liked the danger. Because she was a hero? Spike peeked into the window and motioned Buffy Anne over. 

"Look!" he pointed.

That was so weird. Instead of sleeping, Alder and her parents sat motionless in front of the TV, which was only showing static of course, at this time of night. They were fully dressed. Their positions were oddly stiff and to see their faces without any animation at all was really strange and frightening.

Buffy Anne pulled Spike away from the window and almost ran back to the bicycle.

"That was awful," she said angrily. "I hate this. I hate the way it makes me feel. I thought she was my friend. I mean, I don't care about her Mom and Dad, but Alder was mine."

"Don't be sad about the puppets, Buffy! You do have real friends, and they are at home, trying very hard to free you from this trap."

She was sulking and didn't reply. He walked on silently beside her, pushing the bike, while she took the biggest steps she could. They passed the gate to the Park again. 

Spike stopped. "Why don't we cut across? This is the same Park that's close to your house, isn't it? Why go all the way around?"

"Because we're not supposed to go into the Park, everyone knows that. Come on, it's bad enough without using the Park."

"I saw you go in the first day. Wasn't that forbidden, then?" Spike asked.

"Yeah, but I was trying to escape you. I thought that would make it alright, but Alder still got really nad at me."

"She did? Now I know for sure we've got to get into that Park where nobody is supposed to go. Come on."

Against her misgivings, Buffy Anne followed Spike. He seemed to know what he was doing. They entered the gate. Everything was neat and well-kept. There were trees, paths and lawns. 

"What's so special about this place? Looks just like a normal park, " Spike said.

When they rounded a corner, Spike stood stock-still. A peculiar little stone building came into view. It had a peaked roof, a door but no windows, and weird letters and ornamentation on it.

"It's my bloody crypt! What's it doing here?"

"What's a crypt? Do you live there?" Buffy Anne peeked in. "Dusty smelly old place. Kinda damp and unhealthy I'd say."

"I used to live there. Didn't mind the cold so much."

"Why did you move then?"

Spike made a few vague gestures with his hands. "Long story, "He said finally.

"So, where's your new place?" Buffy Anne inquired curiously. Maybe they could go there sometime.

He threw her an odd little half smile. "Your basement, love."

"Really? I don't believe that. My parents would never…"

Spike said nothing. He stood staring at the crypt and said finally, "I'm going to go in. See where it leads."

"What do you mean?"

"There might be tunnels underneath. They might lead us out."

"Tunnels? That is just…weird."

Buffy Anne's eyes followed Spike's movements from the entrance into the crypt. There was no tunnel entrance anywhere. Spike knocked on every wall, scuffled over the cement floor, but there was nothing there. 

"Hm. I still feel this must be important," he said, "Why else would they want to keep everyone away?"

They walked on. From a shrub to their left two grey and white moving things appeared. They circled around each other with a hopping motion and then suddenly the one thing climbed on top of the other thing and bopped up and down. After half a minute it climbed off again and both things wandered back into the shrub.

"What were those things? How could they move on their own? Ew!" Buffy Anne felt a little strange. The one thing had poked a little pink thing into the other one. It didn't seem to mind, though.

Spike's eyebrows climbed up his forehead again. "The rabbits? The bunnies? What do you mean? They were having a good time, no harm in that."

"What's a bunny?"

"A kind of animal! Don't tell me you've never seen a bunny before?"

"Well, I haven't. And what is an animal?" Buffy Anne asked, faintly disturbed by the sight of the little things. "Let's kiss," she said to Spike. "I feel like kissing."

"Yeah, humping bunnies do that to me, too, every time. Leave off, Buff. Are there no animals at all in this world?"

"I told you, no!"

Spike ran his hand through his lank hair. He looked around at the grass. "Looks like it was mown yesterday. No flowers. No bunnies, no humping."

He lifted her chin with his finger, which Buffy Anne considered a very moving gesture. There would be kissing now, she assumed.

"Buffy, did you ever kiss anyone before?"

"Of course not!" she said, indignant.

"Why not?" Spike asked.

She gaped. "Because we're not supposed to. Because that's for Prom Night, for seniors. And we did it only because we have been dating before, of course."

"I see. And does everybody stick to that rule?" The tilt to his head said, why bother to stick to any rule ever? It was very confusing.

"Of course. Only, well, today a couple of seniors were caught doing it in the library."

"It?"

"Kissing, what else." How would asking all these questions help in the adventure? Or was he trying to find out how far he could go? In that case, she was completely on his side. Rules, schmules.

"Any other peculiar occurrences?"

"Well, the grass was sick, and water came out of the sky."

"Thank you. Can you show me the sick grass?"

They left the park and climbed on the bicycle again. Buffy saw Spike look back twice. 

"What are you looking at?" Buffy Anne asked, idly tracing the stitching on his jacket.

"The crypt. Can't see it anymore."

"Huh. How come they sent you over here? Because you love me the most?" Buffy Anne asked.

Spike coughed. "Not exactly. I am more like a last resort. Not the most popular man with your Watcher, right now. It's just that Willow and Giles didn't have any freedom of movement in their fake bodies. They couldn't break past the programming and had to spend all day performing actions they couldn't change. The librarian never leaves the library, you know. He stands there all night behind his counter. Not that anyone would ever notice, I suppose."

The bike started going slower and slower. Spike was puffing and gasping. Finally Buffy Anne took pity on him and offered to ride. To her surprise, he accepted immediately.

"Most guys wouldn't accept a ride from a lady."

"So I'm not most guys, Buffy."

"I think this is the most romantic evening ever," Buffy Anne told Spike, pushing down strongly on the bike. "Sharing everything, having adventures. Walking through the Park with the man you love."

The arms lightly resting around her middle tightened for a moment.

"Buffy, don't say that. You don't know what you're saying."

"I don't? Why? I'm not an evil puppet!"

At her house, Buffy Anne slowed the bike and waited for Spike to climb off. She put the bike against the tree and purposefully closed in on him.

"No more stalling now," she said, grabbed the lapels of his US Mail-jacket and kissed him. He struggled faintly, but as she had known he would, caved in quickly. It wasn't at all like the last time they kissed, fueled on by that fuzzy desperate memory. That had been more like wrestling than kissing, in Buffy Anne's opinion, although it had made her feel warm and wicked all day. This was what two people in love kissing should be like, sweet and warm and wet, and leaning against his warm body, and feeling his big hands spread on her back…She wished it would go on forever, and they just stopped to breathe now and then, and then kissed some more. She felt all woozy and floaty and tried to press all of her body into him, because more contact was urgently needed.

They paused for breath, and he leaned his forehead against hers, and the feeling welling up in her could no longer be contained.

"Spike, I love you so much," she whispered.

He closed his eyes and averted his head. "Please, love," he whispered back. "I know this is wrong. You're not yourself, don't say these things."

"I am too myself! So I don't have all these memories, what's the difference? I know what I feel, and I want you to know about it. You love me, don't you?"

"Always. It's just…" 

She fastened her hands behind his neck and drew his face towards her again." Shh. Trust me. I know what I want." She softly sucked his lower lip with her own lips, and for a short moment his mouth stayed passive and relaxed under hers, but when she pressed her hips against his, his whole body surged and tightened against her. She took his hands and guided them under her cardigan, where he would hopefully discover she hadn't been wearing a bra the whole night. His fingers on her breast evoked feelings she didn't know existed and her body molded against his. She felt her thighs spreading slightly, opening up to him, even if she wasn't sure what for. The world lit with a flash and a thundering sound split the sky.

Buffy and Spike sprang apart, but nothing followed the crack of thunder. The night was dark and silent again.

"What the hell?" Spike said, tilting his head up to the empty night sky. 

"What was that sound?" Buffy Anne asked, sliding back into his arms, trying to cling even tighter.

"Thunder. It's odd, though, it's cloudless, there can't be a thunderstorm out of the blue."

"Come on, " Buffy Anne said urgently. "No time to waste. Touch me."

His lips slid over the thin skin of her neck, trailing little shocks of pleasure that sparked low in her belly at the same time. "Touch you where?"

She gasped and grabbed his hand again, urging it to wander over her belly and the tops of her thighs. His fingertips were made of fire. Her knees wobbled and she slid down on the ground. She lay down and spread her arms and legs. "Spike. Touch me everywhere."

His hands traveled over her body, which was straining to meet them, tingling where it awaited his touch. He pushed her legs up and rucked up her skirt. The heat generated by the skin of her thighs must be burning him, Buffy Anne thought. She felt weak and heavy, unable to lift a fingertip. His tongue traced the crease where hip met thigh, and she spread her legs wider, waiting for something to happen. When his hands shoved aside her panties, she couldn't help moaning out loud. 

"Spike! Right there!"

His cheek slid against her thigh. "Really?" he murmured. "Who'd have thought…"

His fingers and tongue did clever burning things to body parts she didn't know she had, but felt like magic. A feeling was rising in her that she couldn't describe, it was like climbing a hill, where you knew something wonderful and special was going to happen once you got to the top. She panted, toiling up the hill, and when she reached the summit, she arched her body and cried out, shaking all over with hot and cold shivers. The grass she was lying on quivered. Another, louder thunderclap sounded, and rolled away over the town.

Buffy Anne opened her eyes. "Wow. That was amazing. I've never felt anything like it. Like kissing, only better. "

Spike was looking at her with a frown on his forehead. "Thank you. Did the ground move, or what?"

"It did. It's not a normal part of the experience?"

He laughed. "Not really."

"Can I make you feel the same, Spike?"

He inhaled sharply. Buffy Anne took that as a yes and started experimenting with touching him. It was very gratifying to see him moan and twitch and pant, and when she started unbuckling his belt he started talking.

"Buffy, oh yes, so good, don't stop, oh god…"

The body part that sprang free was unexpectedly different from her own body. She touched it curiously and it twitched. A memory clicked into place.

"It's like the bunnies!" she cried out. "The one bunny had a thingy like this, only much smaller."

"Hmm…yeah…"

She squeezed it gently. Spike groaned again, oblivious. "Could you hump me with it, like a bunny?"

"Ahhh…."

"Now?"

"No, not now…Move your fingers up and down. Gently. Yes. Ahhh. Sweet Buffy. Who knew you could be so sweet?" Spike murmured.

She just loved to watch him quiver and groan and fling his head from side to side, fingers scrabbling in the grass. Slowly the organ darkened. His whole body tensed for a moment, and then the thing quivered and she felt something surge under her hands. Little jets of white fluid shot out from it as Spike cried out. "Buffy!"

She looked down on him lovingly and smiled as he groggily opened his eyes. 

"Can you show me the humping now?"

"What? No, not right now. Not up to it, love. Sorry." His head fell back on the grass and she could feel him falling asleep. She wiped her fingers on the grass, laid out the fleece blanket, rolled Spike on it and snuggled up to him. She hoped that would take care of the backache. They could only have a short nap, of course, before she had to go back to her bedroom.

"Spike! Spike! Wake up!" Buffy Anne whispered and shook him. He sure wasn't easy to wake up. When she finally had him in a sitting position, he was hard to make sense of. He mostly grumbled and cursed, stretching his neck and massaging his temples.

"Never knew I'd thank Drusilla again for making me a vampire. Being human is truly the worst thing that ever happened to me, being beaten up by Glory didn't feel like this. My stomach hurts, my back, my head…This is not funny."

"Stop whining, " Buffy Anne said firmly. "What you need is to drink lots of water and have a proper breakfast. Promise?"

Spike grumbled.

Buffy Anne kissed him, although he didn't seem very cooperative, and was about to walk off to return to her bedroom, when Spike stopped her.

"Buffy, do something for me?"

That made her happy. "For you, of course!"

He smiled tightly and grabbed her hand. "I want you to do everything different today. Different hair, different clothes than normal, change your breakfast routine, take a different way to school, anything you can think of. Be rude to teachers, fight with Alder, anything."

"What? Why?" Buffy Anne didn't like the sound of this willful going against routine. It made her profoundly uneasy and she didn't see what he was going to accomplish with this.

"Disrupting routine is going to disrupt the magic of this world. I'd just like to try and see what happens."

"Spike, do we have to go back to the other world? It makes me feel kind of dread and icky thinking of that. Are you sure it's a good world? As nice as this one? Because if not, I don't see why we would have to leave here," Buffy Anne said. She was glad she'd finally screwed up the courage to say it. They could be perfectly happy here together.

Spike looked so surprised. "Stay in this world? Are you insane? There's nothing here! Look at his! It's got about five colors, all of them primary, and nothing every happens. It's awful. Why do you find it so attractive?"

"Well, it's got you…" Buffy Anne started, drawing nervous circles on his hand. 

"So does the other world, love."

"Yeah, but in this one we are together. Can you promise me we will be together on the other one?"

Spike looked at her with an apologetic frown. "No, I can't. That depends on you. The complete and unabridged you. Who will probably have my balls for fooling around with you here."

Buffy Anne's eyes filled with tears. "Spike, I love you. This isn't fooling around for me! How can you say that!"

He took her in his arms with a deep sigh and patted her back. "It isn't for me either, it's just a little weird. You aren't a teenager, but you look like one, and that's very confusing. I worry about what the real Buffy is going to think of that."

"If she's really me, she loves you just as I do. Trust me," Buffy Anne said with conviction.

He smiled at her crookedly. "Believe me, I do. Nothing else could have induced me to make love to you otherwise. Don't want to bollix up the slim chance there still might be with the woman I love."

"Me, right?"

"Yeah, you, you-plus."

She beamed at him. "Tell me about the other world. How is it different? What do you look like?"

He started to tell her, but all the talk of Vampires, Vampire slayers, Hellmouths, evil and apocalypses confused her. The only thing she really remembered was that his hair was curly and platinum white. And him being a vampire? She decided to put those thoughts aside, because if she couldn't grasp the big picture, there was no point in worrying about the details. She'd know what to do when the time came, she always did.

******

Buffy Anne padded downstairs as silently as she could, though why she did that, she surely couldn't say; her parents would see her anyway when she arrived in the kitchen. She slid sideways in the half-open door and quietly made her way to the breakfast table.

She cleared her throat. "Good morning, Mom. Can I have a cup of coffee please?"

The hand that was pouring coffee twitched. "Buffy Anne, baby girl, aren't you a little young for coffee?" Joyce delivered the line with a wide sweet smile and set down a glass of orange juice in front of her.

Buffy Anne sighed, but persisted. This talk alone counted as disrupting of routine, even if she never acquired the smelly cup of coffee. "Please, Mom. I'm almost a senior, I think I can drink coffee."

Her mother visibly wavered. "Well – I'll talk about it with your Dad. I could hardly decide something like that without his permission, you know."

Buffy Anne thought guiltily about all the things she'd done lately without his permission. Determinedly she grabbed a plate and starting lathering a slice of bread with her Dad's special orange jelly.

She licked her fingers and looked up at her mother's stifled exclamation. "What?"

"Buffy Anne – licking your fingers – not how I brought you up – and using your father's jelly – what's gotten into this morning?"

Buffy Anne shrugged, ignoring the guilt and uneasiness she felt. "I just felt like a change, is all. There's no rule a person has to have the same breakfast every morning, is there?"

Her mother looked at her with a troubled frown. "Nooo – but it is diverging from routine. I don't think I approve."

Buffy Anne said through a mouthful of the bitter jelly," Mom, I promise, tomorrow I'll eat my usual stuff again, okay?"

Joyce nodded uneasily. "Better hurry, Buffy Anne. Leave for school before your daddy gets down. No sense in upsetting him, is there?" She paused. "I like your hair."

Buffy Anne fingered the braids, which were the most different hairstyle she'd been able to come up with. "Thanks, Mom." She hurriedly finished her breakfast and started walking to school.

She was wearing an old skirt, a very old, too tight pink twin-set and her highest heels. If that wasn't unusual, she'd give up. Outside the house, she paused. A different route to school, huh? She started right, instead of left, and wandered all through the neighborhood. For good measure, she crossed the Park as well. It, too, had changed since last night. The grass had become uneven, like at school, and was speckled with many tiny things in all kinds of colors. Flying things shot through the air, fluttering their weird little arms, making pretty sounds with their mouths. There were also smal buzzing things floating around. Why had the world changed? These thing had never existed before. She didn't know their purpose, if they had any, but it looked kind of pretty. 

Buffy Anne thought of what she and Spike had done last night, and the tingling feeling in her belly started up again. Unconsciously, her hand stole down her belly and rubbed there, in that place Spike had touched her. The feeling intensified immediately. Wow. Maybe, you know, she could imitate what he had done and get the mountainy feeling again? She looked around, feeling strongly that she wanted to be unobserved for this. She spotted Spike's crypt and went inside. Not very comfy, but private enough for her purposes.

She experimented with doing it standing up, lying down, panties on, panties off. Finally she lay down on top of sarcophagus, and proceeded to rub herself. It was a little different from when Spike did it. There was no suspense, as it were, because she knew, after some trial and error, exactly where to put her fingers. It ended quickly, and with a nice little thrill, but although she thought she heard the thunder-sound again, the earth didn't move. Perhaps she needed more practice. Or perhaps it was just nicer with someone else – Spike! – doing it. She put on her clothes again and walked to school. 

She was late. In spite of doing it intentionally, she felt deeply nervous about it. This was gong to go on her record. Would she still make Valedictorian? Would Alder be mad? Would she be punished? She realized she didn't know what the punishment might be; no one was ever late. The teacher seemed a little flustered, too. Mrs. Knightly finally found the slip of paper she wanted, after a frantic search of her desk drawers. She filled it in with a shaking hand and told Buffy Anne to report to the principal. The eyes of all her class mates were staring at her in wonder and disgust. 

Buffy Anne winced inwardly and with dragging steps went to report. She could probably say goodbye to popularity. No amount of communication skills could repair the condemnation she'd seen on all their faces. She was an outcast. She'd never ever get a prom date. Wouldn't go to college.

She wasn't punished, but having to listen to the ringing speech the principal gave her on duty and timeliness was worse. She felt like an ungrateful lowly worm, who'd disappointed everybody. At lunch, her friends demonstratively refused to sit with her. Buffy Anne was very lonely. By the end of the school day she was starting to feel sorry she'd ever met Spike, and even sorrier she had done as eh asked. The whole school was buzzing anyway about the thunder, and the mail and the papers that hadn't gotten delivered this morning. The teachers told everyone to ignore the strange happenings, as talking about them would only make things worse, but for once the students weren't listening. 

After school, Buffy Anne went straight home. She didn't feel like making detours. She went up to her room without saying 'Hi!" to her Mom and had a good cry on her bed, clutching Mr. Gordo to her bosom. She might as well go with Spike now to the other world, her life here was ruined. Ruined! 

At dinner, her parents noticed that she was a little more silent than usual. It was sweet of them to care, but of course she couldn't tell them exactly what was wrong. They'd be so disappointed! After dinner, she went to get her embroidery. Joyce regarded her with amazement. 

"Buffy Anne! What is it with you today! This is your night for going to Alder! You have your head stuck in the clouds, haven't you?"

Buffy Anne paused. "What are clouds, Mom?"

Joyce was flustered. "Just a figure of speech, darling. Now go on, Alder will be waiting for you!"

Buffy Anne wasn't so sure about that, but dutifully went out and started the trek to Alder's. Spike would probably meet her somewhere. She paused at the entrance to the Park. She might as well go in again. No use being a good girl anymore. 

Spike was waiting for her by his crypt, as she might have known. When she found herself sobbing on his chest, she realized this was what she'd been wanting to do most of the day. Spike shushed and patted patiently, and the warmth of his solid body and the strength of his arms around her made her feel very safe and loved.

"What was that all about, love?" he asked when she'd calmed down a little.

Buffy Anne told her woeful tale of being punished and shut out all day. "I'm sorry I ever did what you asked," she said sulkily. "If I hadn't, I'd still be the most popular girl in Junior Year."

"I'm sure you would be," Spike said. Buffy Anne detected a faint undertone in his voice, but was unable to determine what it meant exactly.

"Okay," she said perkily, determined not to ruin the evening by moping, "Let's get to work with the disruptive magic! How do I start?"

"How you are right now is fine," Spike said, caressing her back.

Buffy Anne arched into his hands contentedly. "Silly," she said, "how can us cuddling be disruptive magic?"

He nuzzled her neck. "You and this world seem bound together by symbolic magic. To break the last bindings, we are going to open up your portal, so to speak. We're going to make love. Have sex. Hump like bunnies?" 

The last words finally elicited comprehension. "Cool!" Buffy Anne squealed, and climbed up the sarcophagus and knelt down with her back to Spike. "Or should I take off my clothes first?"

"Buffy, sweetheart, you don't have to kneel down. Human beings are a little more flexible than bunnies, and I can think of other positions that are a little more, um, personal, than this one. And, about the clothes, just loosen them. We'll probably need to move really fast into the portal after the magic spell is breached."

"Okay," Buffy Anne said, and started unbuttoning her blouse and unhooking her bra.

"Buffy," Spike murmured, "You are so beautiful…"

He kissed her deeply while his hands roamed over her stomach and breasts. Buffy Anne gasped in surprise at the speed and ferocity of the feeling that hit her. She couldn't stifle a moan and grasped his upper arms urgently, pulling spike tighter against her. 

"Careful," Spike wheezed, "you're squeezing me, you're very strong!"

"Oh, sorry," Buffy Anne said, I just needed to touch you, I couldn't help myself."

"That's fine, love, just try to remember not to use so much strength…""

They stretched out on the sarcophagus and wriggled until their bodies were tightly clasped together. Buffy Anne was in heaven as they kissed and rubbed naked skin to naked skin. When Spike shoved up her dress and pulled off her panties her heart started to hammer in anticipation. Would he make her feel the mountain feeling again? "

"Oh, Spike, please touch me there again," she asked breathlessly. "Yes, there. Oh! That is so nice. I've never felt anything like it. When I tried it myself, it wasn't half so nice…"

Spike chuckled against her neck, where he was sucking hard on that ticklish place below her ear. "Good for you, Buffy, try out the good stuff for yourself. How about this?"

Buffy Anne hadn't thought she was halfway up the mountain yet, but there it was, almost unexpected, that dizzying, burning bright feeling of the world contracting into one small point and than expanding again rapidly until she thought she was spread out so thin she would blow away. She heard thunder roll above them, and the slab of marble underneath them trembled. Apparently that was a normal accompaniment to the good feelings.

"Let me touch you again, Spike…" Buffy Anne murmured happily against his chest.

"Mmm, no, let's try something new," Spike said. 

He put her on her back, pulled up her knees and proceeded to put his thing inside her, like the bunny. Buffy Anne's eyes closed and her head fell back. This was different from the other good feelings there, but very very pleasant in itself. It made her feel nice and full, and when he bumped her inside it was, well, if you compared it to the mountain feeling, it was like low, rolling hills, one after the other.

Spike started to pant and gasp. His face became very warm and sweat started dripping off him. Thunder continued to roll and crack, seemingly straight above them. An enormous clap sounded, and the roof of the crypt split straight in two, allowing Buffy Anne a look at the roiling black heavens above them. Finally she understood. They were causing this, they were making the magic to destroy her happy world right now! The sarcophagus started to buckle under her back, and she started to become frightened.

"Spike!" she shouted, trying to reach him above the sounds of thunder and wind and things breaking.

"Pay attention, Buffy!" he gasped. "Concentrate! Try to come; I'm pretty sure that's going to do the trick!"

He meant she should try to have the mountain feeling again, instead of just the rolling hills. She shifted her hips slightly, trying to let his thrusting thing hit just that one right spot. She soon found it, and was on her way to the top again in no time. It was even more intense this time around, and she found herself shrieking his name.

"Spike! Spike! I love you!"

They shuddered and groaned in unison. When Buffy Anne opened her heavy eyes again, the first thing she saw was a shimmering sheet of white fire, hanging in the middle of the crypt. Thick hard clots of rain were hitting them from the gaping split in the crypt roof, and she could hardly keep her eyes open because of the raindrops.

Spike heaved himself off her, grunting tiredly, and started talking to her urgently. She couldn't hear him. She started to panic. What now? Everything was breaking around her, what would happen?

"Buffy!" Spike yelled in her ear. "That is the portal! We have to go through it, now!"

The climbed off the broken sarcophagus and tried to walk towards the portal. They had to fight as if against a heavy wind to reach it. The wind buffeted them from all sides, whipping up their clothes and hair. If the portal hadn't shone so brightly it would have been impossible to orient themselves.

"Buffy! Go through the portal! Don't pay attention if my body falls down! Don't look back and go forward! I'll be waiting for you on the other side!"

"Okay!" she yelled back, but silently vowed not to leave him under any circumstances.

Spike stepped though the portal first and pulled Buffy Anne through. They seemed to be in a huge, dark cave, with a faint light shining from a spot a ways off and higher up than they were. They were standing on a narrow path lining the walls of the cave. The abyss on their left side was so deep she couldn't see the bottom.

"Come on," Spike said, "follow the path. Go toward the light. You go first."

Tentatively Buffy Anne stepped forward on the narrow rocky path, and wished she had remembered to put her shoes back on. Her bra was round her neck and her blouse unbuttoned. She stopped and started to tidy herself up, but Spike pushed her impatiently from behind. 

"Come on, love, hurry. It won't remain open forever."

She resumed walking again. It seemed to take very long. She wanted to pause and rest, but Spike kept urging her on. Suddenly it seemed silent from behind her. She stopped, and put one hand on a stony outcropping in the wall to steady herself when she was going to turn around.

"Buffy! Don't look back! Come to me! Follow my voice!"

Spike's voice seemed to come from before her, not behind her. It came from the suddenly brighter white rectangle in front of her. She started walking again more strongly. When she had reached the portal, she hesitated. She really wanted one last look backward. She was afraid she'd see Spike's body, but she also wanted to. His voice from the other side of the portal urged her on, telling her to step into it. From so close it sounded different, deeper, the accent the same as her Spike's but the timbre richer. 

This was so scary. She would have preferred to turn back, but what she'd seen through the roof of the crypt, trees falling down, skies splitting open, hard water trying to hit her, made her think there wouldn't be anything to return to. She swallowed. This was too hard. Why did she have to make these decisions? It wasn't fair!

The portal grew almost imperceptibly fainter. Spike's voice kept urging to go on. At last, she decided. Spike would take care of her. Love was more important than fear. She jumped.

******


	3. Part Three

**White Picket Fences part three _(all the usual stuff in part one)_**

Buffy's bare feet touched warm wood, a feeling so familiar and safe that it was a shock to experience it after her fears. She felt a little dizzy and sank down on the couch she sensed at the back of her knees.

Buffy opened her eyes. Curious eyes stared at her, all half known, half-unknown. Alex, no, Xander stepped forward, his eyes doing a strange little dance of avoiding and meeting hers. He offered her his check shirt, that she accepted politely before realizing he meant her to cover her still bared breasts with it.

She blew out a slow breath. Her head cleared a little and she took stock of the little group of anxiously staring people standing around her. Alder, Willow now, Giles, Dawn, and there, behind Giles, Spike, who was looking at her warily. They were all waiting for her to speak. As usual. She sank back into the couch and closed her eyes briefly. Okay. She could do this.

She'd done this before, opened her eyes into another world than she closed them in, and it never got any less painful. She was prepared for the pain of memory crashing down this time, and remembered to throw the waiting minions a bone. 

 "Thanks, guys, for bringing me back." So, that was done. "It's a little overwhelming, though. Could you maybe give me some space? Let me shower and dress first before I tell all?" Spell it out for them, the dear friends, that someone who'd been blissfully unaware of apocalypses and evil needed, say, a couple of minutes to get used to it again? They got it, and with nods and relieved smiles left her alone. She let herself sink into the soft cushions of the couch and closed her eyes. When silence reigned, she opened one eye to check if everyone really had gone. Yeah, they had, even Spike. She'd talk to him later.

She pushed herself off the couch with her arms and staggered a little when she stood. God, she was stiff. How long had it been? At least a couple of days. She hadn't noticed in Sunnyvale, but she felt as exhausted as if she hadn't been sleeping for days. Maybe sleep in the demon world didn't really count as sleep. She stared at the skirt and little twin set she was wearing. It seemed like a century ago, instead of mere years, that's she'd delighted in dressing up in the real world, doing her hair in complicated knots, coordinated colors and little handbags, colored nail polish. These days, she just grabbed a top and a pair of jeans from the closet and shrugged them on. No time for adornment and hair experiments.

When Buffy returned, comfortable in old sweats and a hasty ponytail, the whole assembly was gathered in the living room. Dawn had personally warmed up her favorite kind of pizza for her and she wolfed it down before starting her story.

"And then," she concluded, "everything happened at once. Thunder, rain, roofs splitting, the earth moving, the portal opened, and I followed Spike through it."

"The earth moved?" Giles' eyebrows rose and started fussing with his glasses. Buffy eyed him warily. "So the prison world became unstable before the portal opened?"

Buffy had a hard time avoiding Willow's eyes, as she just knew she'd burst out laughing if she did. She shouldn't have said that about the earth moving, but it was such fun to tease Giles and Spike. Although she couldn't actually look them in the eye.

"Yeah," she said. "The whole world was falling apart for days, you know. All the normal things that happen here, and never ever happened there, started up at once: Rain, flowers, bees, humping bunnies – in fact ever since Spike's penetration of the demon world."

There was a suppressed gasp from Willow, and Buffy bit her lip. Giles was thoroughly discombobulated and outraged, effectively silenced. Buffy's' eyes flicked to Spike, who looked flummoxed as well. Mmm. She'd love to flummox Spike some more. Buffy leaned back on the couch. 

"I'm sure I've left out a gazillion important details you're all dying to know. Ask and ye shall be answered."

"So, Buffy," Willow started, "How did you find out about what would disrupt the worlds' magic?"

Laughter threatened to bubble out of her again. It was all so bizarre. She tried to restrain herself. This was debriefing. This was work.

"Actually, Spike found it out. I mean, you were there, weren't you, Will? In Alder? I didn't have a single thought in my head as Buffy Anne. I would never have gotten out on my own. They really had me."

"Spike? How did you discover what made the world tick?"

"The demons that trapped Buffy bound her up in a world designed to keep her unaware of who she was and what her powers are. They made a simple copy of the real world, populated it with Buffy's friends and family to keep her happy. The left out all symbols or memories of fertility and sexuality, to keep the world unchanging. But these precautions made it vulnerable at the same time. When Buffy become aware of her sexual feelings again, that influenced the world around her, helping us to create a rift where we could travel through." All this flowed out of Spike without a pause/

"Spike! You even sound like Giles, man!" Xander exclaimed.

"Spike." Giles pronounced the name with distaste. "How exactly did Buffy become aware of her sexuality again?"

"Um, well, the usual way? D'you want me to go into details?"

Giles stared at Spike, then at Buffy. "Buffy? Did Spike do anything unseemly to you?"

"Unseemly?" Buffy guffawed. "Well, yeah, he made me ride the bicycle. He was no gentleman."

"Buffy, I'm serious! You know what I'm referring to."

"Yes, Giles, I know. My evasion is a polite way of saying, none of your business. Okay?"

Buffy stood up, hoping everybody would get the hint and leave off. She walked outside, intending to sit on the back porch, but her feet took her off to the big sycamore. She'd plant her sore butt against that, then. Again. The tree brought up memories she'd have preferred not to access yet. Who'd been right? Buffy Anne, who'd' been incomplete and immature in so many ways, not much more than an artificial construct, really, but who'd known her heart with absoluter certainty and had had the guts to go for it, against every rule her little world had instilled in her. Or she, the real Buffy, wavering between personal choices and the Mission, bowing and nearly breaking under the weight of her friends' opinion?

The cold started to seep up in her stiff limbs, and Buffy heaved herself up with a groan. She put her hands on the rough bark, enjoying the feel of the dry, flakey stuff. Se rubbed her cheek against it carefully. A man's stubbly cheek was both rougher and smoother than bark, more prickly, but also more yielding. Spike's real cheek was always smooth, of course. She suddenly felt ashamed for never having asked about a small thing like shaving. Or about anything. What did she know of him? A couple of small preferences and habits, nothing more. She'd never bothered to ask. And yet she knew who he was, where he lived. She knew _him._

Were her feelings and Buffy Anne's the same? Or did hers just seem different seen through all the layers of memory and experience? She could still feel exactly what Buffy Anne had felt for he mailman. It was overwhelming love, absolute and without a doubt, the real thing, pretty scary stuff. Could she dare feel the same? Could she dare offer anything less? Spike wasn't the damaged hero anymore. Since the showdown with Wood, he'd been completely different. He wasn't the guy who would've taken any crumb from her table anymore. If she was gonna offers him anything it had better be enough. It had better be everything she had, or he'd throw it right back in her face.

She walked a circuit around the tree, trailing her hands around the trunk, marveling how the wood held onto the warmth of the day. Maybe she didn't have to decide tonight. Maybe it was wiser and more prudent to sleep on it. Her heart started to thump and her stomach clenched. Maybe not. Her stomach seemed to think waiting was a bad idea. She might not feel the same in the morning. Sleep might dull that wonderful scary feeling that she was not ready to let go ever again. Now or never. She glanced at the house. All the lights were off. She took a deep breath and started of towards the house.

"Buffy." Spike's voice came out of nowhere.

Buffy gave a little bleat of surprise. Some Slayer she was, if a vampire could sneak up on her like that. Even if it was Spike.

She hadn't expected him to turn up, she realized. She'd expected him to wait meekly until she had figured out what she needed to figure out, and came to deliver the verdict. The Spike from a couple of weeks ago would have acted exactly like that, but he change she'd sensed in him must have gone pretty deep. This Spike wasn't meek and respectful and wouldn't keep his distance because she wanted to. This Spike felt he was entitled to an answer, or at least to honesty. 

He stood there, in his tight black T-shirt and jeans, radiating power and determination, looking and feeling like the old Spike, but somehow become more than that. Because of her. She'd known all that, of course, but she'd neglected to attach the right emotions to the knowledge, because, wow, it was impressive as hell. Her monster, who'd become a man for her. And what a man. She swallowed, mesmerized by the contrast between his pale upper arms and the darkness of his T-shirt. Upper arms. An overwhelming, deeply scary physical presence, making her quiver from six feet distance. Oh yeah. She hadn't realized she didn't like him humble, but she knew she liked him like this. Exactly like this.

"So talk to me, Buffy," he said evenly.

"You mad at me already?" She tried for playful. 

He flicked her a quick, tense grin. "Not mad. Just impatient. Waited long enough for you."

Her temper flared. "I noticed that. You had some gall having sex with Buffy Anne! And now if I don't decide double-quick that I love you forever you're gonna go?"

He nodded. "Something like that. I'll help you through the next apocalypse, of course, I promised I would. But if you're never gonna return my feelings I'd best move on, don't you think? Not hang around yapping at your heels like a bloody puppy-dog."

Buffy wanted to say, 'but I love you, Spike,' and all that came out when she opened her mouth was a sob. There was no stopping the crying, it came from somewhere deep inside her and kept gushing out. She stood there and bawled like a baby, tears and snot streaming down her face, hands loose and helpless. After a moment, Spike sighed and gathered her in his arms. All those tears, that should have come out years ago, she supposed, kept flowing and flowing until she was completely exhausted. Three deaths worth of crying, three boyfriends, three times memory coming flooding in again after grateful oblivion.

She leaned against Spike's smooth chest, warm from her own body heat, feeling helpless and weak like a baby and getting comforted like one. Finally she quieted. 

"Sorry to be so limp," she mumbled.

"Limp is fine," he said, "Limp is good." He shifted a bit to ease his position. "You want a glass of water? Tissues?" He made as if to move away and she clung onto him needily.

"No. Please? Don't go? Just hold me, Spike."

"'Course, love," he said. 

That word caused another silent wash of tears, but thank god, they dried up more quickly. They settled down against the tree, exactly like Buffy Anne and the mailman had. It felt completely natural to do it with Spike.

"You know it was kinda tempting to stay in the Buffy Anne-world?"

His brows drew together . "Why?" he asked bluntly. 

She took a deep breath. Talk, don't think about what you are leaning against. Don't think about how he feels cold and hard, and the mailman was warm and soft. About how you prefer cold and hard, because that had always been so much easier to reject.

"Mom and Dad being together…being a family again."

"What about Dawn then? You've got family right here."

He was so perceptive. He wasn't going to let her get away with anything. She thought some more. "Okay," she admitted. "I guess I should have said, being a child again, with no responsibilities, was appealing."

"That's not so bad, Buffy. You got lot on your shoulders. Who'd blame you for needing a release from that?"

She sighed. "As usual, I'm my own sternest judge."

She let her head drop back against Spike's chest. Maybe it wasn't so bad to feel the wish to let go of everything, to just be held and cuddled and not have to think of apocalypses and leading armies of girls. Spikes' arms snaked around her securely, holding her just so, intensifying the warm scary feeling that had taken up residence in her guts. She rested her hands on his legs. He put his mouth to her ear, sending shivers down her spine, and said in that rich chocolate voice of his, "Talk, Buffy."

At the sound of his voice, a wave of lust crashed through her and she tightened her hold on Spike's legs involuntarily. In one fluid motion, Spike sat up straight and heaved her off his lap. 

"None of that, now, Buffy. Speak up or go. I'm tired of being stalled or played with." He really was angry now.

What was stopping her from saying it now? She loved him didn't she? Panicking like an idiot again, she grabbed his hands and hung on for dear life.

"Spike, I…" Her throat closed up. She could kick herself. Speak, Buffy, speak! 

"Spike, this is so hard for me. I…" She finally dared meet his eyes, and saw his whole demeanor had softened. A smile almost tugged at his mouth, and his eyes held the sweetest look. Oh, good, he knew, she didn't have to…She moved in for a kiss. Spike held her at arm's length and raised his eyebrows. 

"You're really gonna have to say it first, Buffy," he said steadily. 

Tears started pouring from her eyes again. She inched closer. "I love you," she whispered through glass splinters in her throat. She was crushed to him in the best inhumanly tight way and for all she cared he could crush her until she disappeared right into him. A fierce triumph shone on his face when he lifted his head from her neck.

"Bloody hell, Buffy, I thought you'd never say it…" he said, his voice as hoarse as her own.

"Buffy Anne was me, Spike," Buffy answered fiercely. "She wasn't cluttered up with excess baggage, and she knew for sure she loved you. I might not have had the guts to say this without her, you know that?"

"I do."

FINIS


End file.
